Cop Puns & Grumpy Werewolves
by Strange Ink
Summary: The first time Stiles hit on Deputy Parrish it was the day after high school graduation and he had mostly done it as a joke.


**notes:** this has been in the works for awhile and I finally got around to finishing it. It was supposed to be a b-day gift for a friend of mine, but her birthday was 10 days ago, so as you can tell, it was not done on time. Better late than never I suppose.

* * *

The first time Stiles hit on Deputy Parrish it was the day after high school graduation and he had mostly done it as a joke. Parrish was unfairly attractive and had these green eyes that looked like spring grass. He may have had a tiny bit of a crush on him ever since he'd arrived in Beacon Hills. But he wasn't stupid. You can't hit on a police officer when you're underage and still in high school.

But now he… wasn't either of those things. So he thought he'd give a go, mostly just to see how far he could push this newfound "adulthood" as his father kept calling it.

"So," he said, leaning against the edge of the front desk, trying to channel his inner ladies-man. Or, you know, gentlemen-man… or something like that.

"What else do you use those handcuffs for?"

Parrish's head snapped up to look at him, green eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Even gaping like a fish he was still pretty cute.

"Stiles get in here, I'm starving!" his dad called from his office. Stiles grinned at the still-shocked deputy, winked, and went to join his father, depositing the salad he'd brought him (no meat, extra lettuce) on the desk. The sheriffs eyes were narrowed as he watched him unpack the lunch.

"What?" Stiles asked, feigning innocence.

"You know what."

Stiles just shrugged, taking a bite out of the burger he'd brought for himself, sliding the salad towards his father.

The sheriff glared at him and then at the salad but didn't say anything else.

* * *

The second time Stiles hit on Deputy Parrish it was while he was bailing Derek out of jail. He had a feeling he wasn't the wolf's first choice for the job, but he'd told Stiles where to find the money he'd need under one of the floorboards in the loft and Stiles had agreed to spring him free.

Apparently, he'd punched a guy in the supermarket parking lot. And, well, getting punched by a werewolf, especially when said wolf really meant it, was no small thing. Stiles couldn't help but be curious as to why Derek had done it. He'd gotten so much better with the whole gratuitous violence thing the past year.

When he entered the police station Parrish was sitting behind the desk again, a bored look on his face while he stapled stacks of papers together.

He looked up when Stiles entered and gave a small smile than made the younger boy grin, a flash of mischievous teeth.

"Hey there green eyes," he said, sliding easily into flirt-mode. Just because Derek was warming a jail cell didn't mean that he should be denied the opportunity to mack on officer hotness. Besides, he'd punched someone, he could sweat it out for a few more minutes.

The tops of Parrish's ears reddened a bit at the greeting and, oh yeah, Derek could definitely fucking wait.

"Are you here to see your father?" Parrish asked, clearly trying to compose himself. "He's out on patrol right now."

"Oh I know," Stiles replied, leaning against the counter so that he was invading the deputy's work space just a little bit.

Parrish was looking at him with those impossibly bright eyes, his ears still red, and Stiles thought about what it would be like to kiss him. He looked like he'd be a good kisser. He had the lips for it, full and pink.

Fuck, he was going to make _himself_ blush if he kept up with that train of thought.

"Can I help you with something then?" Parrish asked, his voice steady this time but still looking a bit flustered.

"Yeah, I'm here to bail someone out actually."

The deputy's eyebrows shot up so high that it would have even impressed Derek. You know, if he hadn't been currently locked in a jail cell, probably trying to scowl the wall into submission.

"You're here for Hale?"

"Yeah, I figured I'd come and take him off your hands, he's not exactly the most pleasant company."

Parrish snorted. "That's one way of putting it. He's been glowering at the floor since we brought him in."

"Well, he _is_ in jail."

"You should tell him to just walk away next time then."

"You want _me_ to confront him? Maybe you hadn't heard, but he _punched_ a guy."

The deputy's laugh was infectious and Stiles could help grinning foolishly at the other man. God, he wanted to kiss him. He needed someone to kiss and Parrish was adorable. Did he know how fucking adorable he was?

"Well if you ever want some better company," Stiles said, leaning in even closer once their laughter had passed. "I may know of some. You can show me how to do that good cop, bad cop thing."

Now Parrish's face was bright red and he was gaping at Stiles like a fish in a way that didn't quite feel like rejection. He smirked but pulled away, trying his best to look nonchalant.

"I should probably get Derek out of jail first though, I've got the cash." He took a wad of bills out of his back pocket. It had been hidden under a floorboard in Derek's loft and he'd retrieved it at the werewolf's instruction when he'd started to argue that he was a poor college student who couldn't afford to just bail stupid wolves out of jail left and right.

"I, yeah… okay," said Parrish, standing and looking completely flustered by the sudden change in topic.

It wasn't long before Derek was sprung free, a scowl plastered to his perfect, well-stubbled face. He was grumbling something under his breath that Stiles couldn't hear fully as he led them out of station. Feeling eyes on him, Stiles turned around to see Parrish watching them go and he secretly hoped the deputy had been checking out his ass. He was of the firm opinion that he had a rather nice ass.

He grinned at him and threw in a wink for good measure before jogging to catch up to the very angry werewolf standing by his jeep.

* * *

"Someone's extra grumpy today," Stiles said, glancing over at Derek as he drove him back to the loft. Derek had been sitting in silence and glaring out the window and looking like he was going to attempt to throw himself through the glass.

"I was in _jail_, in case you've forgotten," he growled.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, about that, why exactly were you punching people in the supermarket parking lot?"

"I only punched one person," he replied, a bit petulantly.

"Well why did you punch that one person?" Stile amended.

"It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters, you can't just go around punching people Derek."

The werewolf turned his glare on Stiles now and had it been a few years prior the younger boy may have been afraid. But a lot had happened between then and now and he wasn't afraid of Derek anymore. It was hard to be afraid of someone who had saved your life again and again.

"Well?" he prompted, ignoring the murder eyes that were trained on him.

"He was… saying things. About Isaac. About his family."

Stiles glanced at him before making the turn onto Derek's road to find a pained look behind the wolf's exterior grump-face.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

There was a few minutes of silence between them as they drove. Stiles didn't know what was going through Derek's head, but he couldn't feel the swell of affection in his own chest at the werewolf's protectiveness. He wasn't the alpha anymore, but it didn't matter. Pack was pack and he would do anything for them. It was making Stiles' feelings do something complicated.

They pulled up in front of the loft and Derek practically through himself from the car, slamming the door behind him.

"Easy on my baby you asshole!" Stiles yelled after him, trying to shake off all the suddenly intense emotions he was having. Derek didn't say anything, just stalked towards the front door. And Stiles might have been more annoyed if he wasn't so busy appreciating the view of his ass before he disappeared inside.

* * *

The third time Stiles hit on Deputy Parrish was when they were all out for pizza. Scott had instated a sort of pack-bonding time once a week with a mandatory attendance policy that he was surprisingly rigorous about enforcing.

They had at least three pizzas between them as well as a few orders of fries and enough soda to make a dentist faint, because werewolf stomachs were actually black holes. Not that Stiles was lagging behind on the food consumption. He was on his sixth piece of pepperoni of the night and no he was not eating his feelings thank you very much.

The fact that Derek had chosen to sit at the opposite end of the table and hadn't spoken to him since the week before when Stiles had bailed him out of jail had nothing to do with his forlorn mood. Nothing at all. He was just acutely emotional over the fact that the pizza shop was out of onion rings. That was it.

He was reaching for slice number seven when he caught sight of a familiar head of blonde hair. He hadn't noticed Parrish come in because this was the first time Stiles was seeing him out of uniform and in regular clothes. The blue jeans, white t-shirt thing was really working for him, framed everything, uh, _nicely_.

Stiles dropped the pizza he was holding onto his plate, wiped his hand on a napkin, threatened to break the fingers of anyone who touched his food, and then made his way over to where Parrish was leaning against the counter.

"Come here often?" he asked, with what he hoped was a sufficiently charming (and not horrendously awkward) grin.

Parrish turned to look at him, green eyes wide in surprise. "Hi Stiles, how are you?"

Stiles shifted so that he was also leaning against the counter, hands in his pockets.

"Good, great. You know, you look pretty good in regular clothes. _Not _that I don't appreciate a man in uniform."

Parrish's face had coloured again and he seemed to be at a loss for words. Stiles couldn't help but be proud of his ability to truly fluster the deputy.

"I- thank you," he said finally, shuffling his feet a bit. "You know -oh, my food's here."

One of the workers slid a small pizza box across the counter and started to ring up the order while Parrish fumbled for his wallet.

Stiles grinned at him. "I've got to get back to my friends anyways. Hope to see you around?"

He didn't wait for a response before turning back towards the table where all of said friends were blatantly staring at him. Well, all except Derek who was instead looking down at his food as if it had insulted him.

* * *

"Why is Derek mad at me?"

Scott looked up from the video game he was playing as Stiles entered his room and proceeded to make himself comfortable on the bed.

"Isn't he always kind of mad at you?"

"I think he's usually annoyed by me. But now he's mad and I don't know why. You'd think busting him out of jail would earn a guy a little gratitude. Oh dude you're going to die."

Scott looked back at the tv just in time to find himself being blown up by the enemy and a 'game over' flashing across his screen. He sighed, tossed the controller onto the floor and swiveled his chair so that he was facing his friend.

"You didn't bust him out of jail. You bailed him out with his own money."

"Stop avoiding the question Scott," Stiles said, grabbing a pillow and chucking it at him.

"Don't be an idiot Stiles," Scott said, tossing the pillow back at him. Stiles wished he had caught and not been hit square in the face with it, but that was life.

"I'm not being an idiot," he said indignantly.

Scott sighed. "Derek's going to kill me. I'm not even really supposed to know, but werewolf senses and all that."

"Anytime you want to start making sense would be cool there Scottie."

Scott carded his fingers through his hair, looked at his feet, and then back at Stiles. "All your stupid flirting with Parrish, you're making him jealous."

"I -ex_cuse me?_" Stiles gaped at his best friend, not entirely sure he'd heard right.

"Look, you two have been dancing around each other forever, and we just kind of figured you guys would figure it out when you were ready-"

"We? Who is _we?_"

"Ah, yeah, you know, me, Isaac, Allison, Lydia-"

"So everyone. Everyone knows that I… and Derek -oh god, no, Derek does _not_ like me like that, you're all delusional." He had jumped from the bed and was pacing the bedroom, arms flailing as he talked.

Scott was watching him, a mix of sympathy and amusement on his face.

"Stiles I can tell. Heart racing and all that. Plus I can… I can smell it on the both of you."

Stiles stopped and turned his attention back to his best friend who looked like he'd just eaten something sour, clearly not appreciating what his heightened sense of smell had told him about his packmates.

"You can smell it," he said. "Of course you can. That's so unsettling, by the way. I know I used to think it was cool, but it's not, it's… it's… an invasion of privacy!"

Scott rolled his eyes. "It's not like I can turn it off."

Stiles collapsed back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to wrap his head around this new information. He felt like he'd been hit by a brick.

But like, a really _nice_ brick. Because Derek actually liking him, that was pretty much at the top of his super secret wishlist. Although not really that secret because apparently everyone knew how he felt. Hell, Derek had to know how he felt, he had wolfy senses too afterall. But he'd never said anything, never -and _oh god_, he'd flirted with Parrish right in front of him.

Stiles groaned. "I'm such an idiot."

"That's what I've been saying."

He didn't dignify that with a response, instead addressing the real problem. "But now he hates me, Scott, I fucked up."

"He doesn't hate you, I said he was jealous, you're jumping to conclusions."

"Jealousy leads to hatred Scott. You get so jealous of something that you end up despising it, that's a thing that happens."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Derek's not like that. Actually…"

He was silent for a moment and Stiles had to lift his head to make sure he hadn't left the room on him. He hadn't, but he did have his thinking face on, brows scrunched together in concentration. Sometimes Scott looked more like a puppy than a wolf. Well, most of the time.

"Scott! I can see the gears turning in there, would you spit it out already!"

He grinned. "I have a plan."

"_You_ have a plan?" Stiles asked incredulously.

Scott glared at him, which was still a stupidly puppy-ish expression. "Do you want to know the plan or not?"

"Yeah yeah yeah, let's hear it."

* * *

The next time Stiles ran into Parrish he didn't hit on him. He wasn't even given the chance, if he had actually planned to. They crossed paths at the supermarket while Stiles was loading up on fresh vegetables and low-fat milk.

"Oh Deputy Parrish, hi," he said, both of them going for the tomatoes.

"Stiles, hi, look, I need to talk to you."

"Okay," Stiles replied, dropping a container of organic cherry tomatoes into his basket.

"I'm really flattered by all your, uh, _attention_, but you have to know I can't reciprocate. You're my boss's kid and I just don't think it would be right. _Not_ that there's anything wrong with you of course. If the circumstances were different then maybe, but we just can't. You understand, right?"

Stiles stood there, slightly shocked but pleased. Parrish had just wrapped up part one of the plan and sufficiently less feelings were hurt than he had anticipated.

"Yeah," he said finally. "I totally get it, I'm sorry I've been so forward."

"That's alright," Parrish replied, picking through the display of romas. "It was flattering. No hard feelings though?"

"Nah, it's cool. Friends though?"

He nodded. "Yeah, friends."

* * *

Jealousy. The plan was jealousy. As in, make Derek _more_ jealous.

Stiles was understandably dubious of this "plan." Derek already seemed pretty jealous and so far it wasn't exactly working in his favour.

Scott, however, seemed certain that inciting more jealousy was going to make Derek actually take action.

"He needs initiative Stiles. And now that you seem all interested in someone else, he's going to have to do something if he wants to stake his claim."

"I am not something to be claimed!" Stiles had protested, only mildly offended.

"You know what I mean."

He still had his doubts but agreed to the plan anyways. Theoretically, he could just go to Derek and admit his feelings. But that sounded embarrassing and left too much room for open rejection.

Also, it didn't sound like nearly as much fun.

* * *

The flirting with Parrish kept up, only minus Parrish. Derek didn't need to know that though. As far as he was aware, Stiles was still trying to get into the Deputy's pants, wooing him with compliments and lame pick-up lines, and was having some luck. Fictionally, Stiles had game.

"_Can I get the key to your handcuffs?"_

"_You know where that uniform would look good? I'll give you a hint it rhymes with my door."_

"_Feel free to persecute me with the long hard arm of the law."_

There had been a lot of glaring, angry eyebrows, and even stomping off. Stiles was beginning to think that was all a terrible idea. Not that it stopped him from letting himself into Scott's house where he knew his best friend and Derek were discussing pack stuff.

"Hey Scott, I have a poem for Parrish, I need you to tell me how it is."

Scott looked up at him, an amused look on his face as he tried not to laugh. "Go for it dude."

Stiles cleared his throat and unfolded a piece of paper he pulled from his pocket, pointedly not looking at Derek who was probably doing one of his various eyebrow things. Stiles was well acquainted with those, as they were usually directed at him.

"Okay, here it goes: _Can you read my rights? Because baby, I'm legal. Can I get the key to d if I give you my numbah?_"

Scott was grinning wide at him and Stiles hadn't planned to look over at Derek (that wasn't in the plan) but it was hard not to as the wolf had jumped from his chair and sent it crashing to the floor.

"Sorry," he growled, picking it up and pushing it into the table with more force than would ever be necessary to move a chair. Stiles opened his mouth to say something but Derek was already storming out of the room and through the house, heading for the front door. He exchanged a panicked look with Scott who just waved his hands at him.

"Well, go, do something!"

Stiles sprung forward, limbs flailing. "Right! On it!"

By the time he made it to the front door Derek was already on the sidewalk, walking away from the house.

"Derek wait!" he called, jumping off the porch and chasing after him. If Derek decided to utilize his werewolf speed he'd be screwed, but he was in luck. Instead of running off he spun around to face Stiles, eyes wide and fuming. Okay, maybe lucky wasn't _quite_ the word for it.

"What do you want?" he demanded, flexing his hands like he was trying not to ball them into fists.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked lamely.

"What does it matter to you? Don't you have a new boy toy to go bug? Ask him stupid questions."

"And what does it matter to you if I have a boy toy or not?"

"It doesn't!"

"I don't have to be a werewolf to know that's a lie. So come on, I want the truth." He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice and Derek looked positively furious. The wolf stalked closer to him so they were only a foot or two apart. Stiles felt a jolt of anticipation go through his body and that _should not _have been his response to the situation at all. Derek looked like he wants to eat him and not in the good way.

"Just go away," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Stiles wasn't scared.

"You're the one who just got all up in my personal space," he pointed out. He was tempted to poke him in the chest a bit but decided not to push his luck.

"Stiles." It came out as more of a growl than anything else.

"God you're so ridiculous!" Stiles cried, throwing his hands up in the air and almost whacking the werewolf in the face. Derek grabbed them just before they had a chance to make contact, holding each of his wrists in his own hands. The sensation of skin-on-skin made Stiles' breath hitch and his heart speed up a bit and he could only imagine what he was starting to smell like to the wolf's heightened senses.

"Stiles," he said more softly, his eyes boring into the younger man. "What are you talking about?"

"You're so dense," Stiles said, trying to sound angry and failing. "I _like_ you, isn't that obvious?"

Derek's eyebrows did the complicated thing again, his face scrunched up in confusion.

"What?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "_Like_, Derek, I like you. A lot."

Derek just stared at him as if he had grown several heads and was dancing the macarena.

"I don't understand," he started. "Parrish-"

Stile snorted. "Is not interested."

"So you're harassing him?" The confused look was still plastered to his face and the more Stiles looked at him the more he thought it was kind of adorable. Like a lost puppy, not that he was about to share that analogy. He wasn't that much of an idiot.

"Of course not, who do you think I am? I was just pretending. Well, for the last week at least."

Derek blinked. "Why would you do that?"

Stiles sighed and gave him a pointed expression that made Derek look down to where he was still grasping the younger man's wrists in his hands. He let them go only to have Stiles thread their fingers together.

"I was trying to make you jealous and get you to _do_ something."

Derek's eyes snapped up from looking at their linked fingers to Stiles' face. "Why, how.. what the fuck Stiles."

His voice wasn't as soft anymore, frustration creeping back into his tone. But he didn't pull away, which was definitely a good sign.

"Well someone had to do something! Seeing as we have apparently been _lusting_ after each other forever!"

Derek's mouth dropped open and then snapped shut. "How did you-"

"Everyone knows Derek. _Everyone_."

Derek didn't say anything for a moment, his ears turning pink despite still fuming.

"So you wanted to make me jealous?"

"Well yeah."

"That's the stupidest fucking plan I've ever heard. You're an asshole."

"Oh yeah, because you're such a fucking ray of sunshine aren't you?"

"You know you could have just said something to me!"

"Because that's so easy. Why didn't you say something to me, huh?"

He expected Derek to say something biting, maybe yell, maybe stomp away and go brood in his stupid loft-cave. He certainly wasn't expecting Derek to grab his face and smash their lips together.

Stiles felt glued to the pavement in shock, his eyes wide, his brain struggling to grasp what was happening. Derek was _kissing him?_ Derek Hale. Kissing. Him.

Derek Hale was kissing Stiles Stilinski.

Derek Hale was making a frustrated noise at Stiles Stilinski for not responding and pulling him closer so they were flush against each other.

And then it sunk in. _He was kissing Derek!_

He threw his arms around the werewolf with enthusiasm, mouth finally responding to his ministrations, and his… oh, yeah, there was little Stiles, waking up to play.

Derek bit as his lip, just a small nip, and it sent a shock through Stiles' system. He threaded his fingers through Derek's hair, pulling a bit, and was rewarded with the sexiest moan he'd ever heard in his life. Pornstars didn't even moan like that and they were just kissing. Fuck.

Derek pulled away first, keeping his arms wrapped around where they had slipped to Stiles' waist, resting their foreheads together. His eyes were trained on Stiles and goddamn were they intense to look at up close.

"So you and Parrish are definitely not…"

Stiles let out a huff of laughter. "No, we're not. Not even a little bit."

"Good," he said, humming a bit and nosing at his jaw and leaving a trail of light kisses up to his ear.

Stiles' legs were starting to feel a bit like jelly and he clung to Derek's arms a little tighter. This really was not how he'd expected this to go at all.

Derek licked at the pulse point on his neck and Stiles, well, he wasn't particularly proud of the noise he made at that. Derek laughed against his skin.

"Don't laugh at me Hale!"

"It's not you. Scott is yelling at us from the house to get out of the middle of the street if we're going to have sex."

"We're on the sidewalk Mccall!" Stiles declared, knowing his friend could hear him. "And you're just jealous."

"He's right though," Derek said, detangling himself from the other man but grabbing his hand and holding it tight. Like the idea of letting go of Stiles was completely intolerable. Stiles was absolutely not going to argue about that ever at all.

"So are we?" he asked, looking up at Derek. "Going to have sex that is?"

Derek rolled his eyes. "And for a moment I almost forgot that you were a horny teenager."

"Hey!" Stiles said indignantly. "I'm legal."

"Thank fucking god for that."

"So does that mean you're going to ravish me now?"

"Are you going to stop talking?" Derek was leading them back towards the house now, the tension from before completely gone out of his body.

Stiles shrugged. "I can't make any promises."

"I could always just go back to my place without you."

"I know where you live."

"I'll lock you out."

"I have a key."

"But you gave that back… you made a copy didn't you?"

"I'm honestly surprised you thought I didn't."

Derek sighed, but it was definitely the fond kind of sigh. Stiles liked it much better over his usual frustrated sighs. This new one promised more kissing.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

"Me hopefully."

Derek didn't even have time to respond before Scott's voice came yelling from the house in front of them.

"REALLY STILES!? CAN'T YOU KEEP THAT TO YOURSELF?"

Stiles just grinned up at Derek who actually looked like he was going to bust out laughing at any moment. Imagine that, Derek Hale, _laughing_.

"Oh Scottie," Stiles said, eyes locked on Derek's. "I absolutely cannot."

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Stiles had Derek bent over the kitchen table at the loft, ass on display as Stiles worked him open with his fingers. And Derek was making the _best_ fucking noises. Little moans and gasps, chanting Stiles' name when Stiles dragged his fingers out slowly and pushed back in just as slow.

And the sound he made when Stiles hit just the right spot inside him, the loud half-moan, half-cry -that was Stiles' favourite. He could listen to Derek make that noise for hours, make a mess of him as he brought him to the edge again and again.

He loved to undo his wolf. _His_. Derek was his.

And it was when Derek started to push back against his fingers, desperate for something more, that Stiles would reach for the lube. They kept a few bottles of it scattered around the loft just for times like these when they couldn't even be bothered to make it to the bed.

He flipped the cap up and squeezed out a generous amount, rubbing it into his hands before slicking Derek up, pressing lightly back in with his fingers and making the werewolf keen while he pumped himself a few times. He was always amazed at how hard he could get just from touching Derek.

"Stiles,"Derek said, breathless and pleading, pushing his ass back more.

And Stiles was happy to oblige, lining himself up before pushing in, groaning as he lost himself in Derek's heat. And it was the best fucking feeling in the world. _Literally._

Sex with Derek was like finding religion, like coming home.

He bottomed out, gripping the werewolf's hips tight before he pulled out and slammed back in. Derek groaned, loud and porny sounding, and Stiles did it again. And again and again until they were both panting and sweaty and Stiles could feel the pressure start to build as he came close to climax.

He leaned over Derek so they were plastered together, licking his hand and then reaching for the werewolf's cock, pumping him as his thrusts became more erratic.

And then Derek was calling out his name, stilling under him as he came over Stiles' hand, muscles spasming in pleasure and gripping the other man's cock tighter inside of him. That was all it took to make Stiles come too, the intensity of his orgasm making him weak at the knees so that he had to lean against Derek's body to keep himself from falling over.

It was a few breathless moments before either of them could move. Stiles slid out of Derek and leaned against the counter behind them, still not trusting his legs.

"Fuck, I'll never get tired of that," he said as Derek pushed himself up and reached around for his pants which had been thrown over one of the chairs. That had been turned over and may possibly have a broken leg. Absolutely not as a result of aggressive sex, don't be ridiculous.

"Why are you putting clothes on?" Stiles demanded as Derek pulled his jeans on.

"Scott's on his way- no, wait." Derek laughed before shoving the pants back down off his hips, kicking them across the room. "He picked up our scent and turned around."

"Good," Stiles said, grabbing his boyfriend's hand and dragging him towards the bed. "I need a nap and then I want round two."

Derek rolled his eyes. "So demanding."

"You like it."

They collapsed into the bed, Derek pulling him close and throwing an arm over him. Stiles settled in, nestling into the werewolf's warmth and closing his eyes. Derek left a soft kisses up the back of his neck, his voice an affectionate whisper behind his ear. "I love it."


End file.
